


Return of the King

by Kereea



Series: The Queen's Kraken [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, F/M, Fem!Robb, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post - Red Wedding, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ramsay is his own warning, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 13:03:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1780105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kereea/pseuds/Kereea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon Greyjoy’s marriage had never been normal. His wife had kept her surname and it was the surname their children would have. His wife had started a rebellion and been declared Queen in the North. And now Robyn Stark was in front of him, apparently defying her own supposed death to save him from the Dreadfort.</p><p>Of course, it’s a bit hard going from months of torture back to your life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return of the King

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, I loved A Length of Rope by Shayna_Nak, but I felt like I needed both some Fem!Robb and my rescuing-tortured-Theon fix in the same story. And then this happened. I regret nothing.

_“-so really when she gave you that…it’s kind of her way of calling you family. It’s an Ironborn thing,” Theon said awkwardly, looking at Asha’s late wedding present with an embarrassed grin._

_“Well, then, I like it even more now,” Robyn said leaning on him. “But what was that about not naming any children for your father?”_

_“She’s pretty much heir with me married here,” Theon said, shrugging. He fought a grin as Robyn absently played with his dark hair. “So naming any boy Balon is her prerogative, essentially.”_

_“Ironborn thing?” Robyn teased, blue eyes sparkling._

_He must have looked embarrassed, since she kissed him before hugging him tightly. “I don’t mind that you have seawater in your veins, you know.”_

_“Saltwater” Theon said. “It’s_ saltwater _Robb.”_

“Reek!”

Theon jolted awake from his dreams, only to reel back at how close Ramsay Snow was to his face.

Snow’s hand shot out and painfully seized his already-aching jaw. “Looked like a good dream.” Smug bastard.

Theon stayed silent. Snow used anything he said against him, always making thing worse when Theon talked back or even on the broken days when Theon went along with his captor’s insanity. Silence at least meant his head didn’t get turned against him when Ramsay twisted his words.

“I received the most amazing news,” Snow said, grinning. “They were saying my Reek was a king, you know. Well, I thought it was crazy. And it turns out you were, once.”

He was technically King in the North even now. Robyn had the banners’ loyalty, of course, but she was Queen and he was her husband, so he was King.

The bastard grinned at him, “Of course, you’re not now. Not after the wedding.”

Theon tensed, and hated himself for it at once. He knew Robb wouldn’t marry unless she truly thought he was dead, and if he’d been held so long here without any rescue attempts not faked by Snow, then likely he was assumed missing and dead.

She wouldn’t betray him like that unless she really thought he was dead.

“Oh, silly Reek, your girl didn’t get married. The Freys killed the whole Stark party at the Twins wedding!” Ramsay said.

“Liar.” It slipped out before he could help it, but it was true all the same. No one would be so mad, violating guest right simply to turn their cloaks.

“Oh, I’m a liar, am I? Reek should know better than to call his master such things,” Ramsay said, smacking a freshly-flayed portion of Theon’s arm.

Theon hissed in pain and crumpled, his weakened state unable to take it.

“But Reek’s not a bright boy, so I brought him some proof,” Ramsay said. He reached into a pocket and pulled out-

No.

Theon’s eyes went wide as bloodied strands of red hair drifted to the ground.

“Robyn Stark is as dead as her brothers, father, and mother,” Ramsay chuckled. “The Boltons rule the North now. Is Reek happy for his mast—argh!”

Ramsay was too big and strong for Theon to have fought him properly even if he’d been healthy, but Theon hadn’t cared. He’d just lunged.

Robyn was dead. He couldn’t care about anything, much less his own safety.

Ramsay flung him into a wall and Theon saw stars as his head hit the stones.

“Still some bite in you, hm? We’ll have to break that,” Ramsay chuckled before walking out.

Theon collapsed, staring at the hairs. Robyn couldn’t be dead, she couldn’t be…

If Robyn was dead, why were they keeping him alive? He had no ransom value without her. No, wait, Ramsay was a sick-minded bastard, that was reason enough…

She couldn’t be dead.

Theon shakily reached for the hairs before drawing his hand back. Ramsay would know if he’d taken them, and if it was bait…

But it might be the last bit of Robyn he ever had. He at least needed a few.

He carefully took a few of the bloodier strands. He untied the strip of cloth keeping his pants up—well, keeping them up unless Ramsay wanted them down, he found if he tied it too tight and Snow couldn’t get to the skin he wanted to torture things got bad quickly—and tied the hairs into the knot.

He told himself that he didn’t believe she was dead, that it was just a precaution. That he hadn’t had anything resembling contact with his wife in what felt like years.

He hated himself for not being able to believe it.

.o.o.o.

There was screaming in the halls. He drew in on himself. Ramsay sometimes murdered prisoners and then came in to flay or maim or violate him while covered in blood and excited from the killing.

He heard a ferocious scream—and it was a scream, too high-pitched to be a yell even with the growling undertone—of “Where is he?”

It sounded familiar. Was it one of Ramsay’s fake rescue parties?

He idly rubbed his left hand. Ramsay had taken off a second finger the day after Theon had attacked him. As always, he made him beg.

“I’ll show you! I-I’ll show you!”

Theon frowned. That sounded…like Ramsay Snow. He was really going for it with this fake rescue…he’d never pretended to be scared before. Hell, he usually didn’t get personally involved.

Something banged against his door and he heard a terse order to open it.

Ramsay was shoved in first, before being pinned down by two burly soldiers in gray, a massive wolf right behind them snapping at the Bolton bastard.

Theon’s heart stopped. He knew that wolf. Ramsay…there was no way Ramsay could fake Grey Wind being two steps from tearing out his throat.

“Theon?”

Now he recognized the voice. His eyes shakily rose from the floor to meet two Tully-blue ones.

“You…you’re dead.” He can’t say anything else. “He told me about the wedding.”

“I know. Everyone allied with the Lannisters is acting like there were no escapees from the Red Wedding,” she said. She smiled slightly. “I’m really glad we thanked Asha for that dress.”

“You…you were wearing it?”

Asha’s wedding gift— _late_ wedding gift, it came weeks after they’d been married—had been a dress with mail and tough leather sown into the lining. It was a common thing on Pyke, since council meets could get bloody fast. Even a lady needed some form of armor. At the time Theon had thought it a bit ridiculous and been embarrassed since the men of the North tended to get angry when reminded their lord’s eldest had married an Ironborn.

“Other than a mourning gown it was the only one I had with me,” she said, kneeling down in the filth. “I wasn’t about to wear black to a wedding.”

Theon couldn’t help it, he started laughing.

Robyn was alive, after all, and it felt so good but so absurd…

He stilled at a hand on his cheek. Robb looked so sorry, “I didn’t know you were here. I didn’t even know the Boltons were traitors until the wedding. Gods…it’s been over half a year…”

Suddenly Theon recalled those months, and worse, recalled what he looked like right now. And by the smug look Ramsay was giving him, the bastard knew he just came to that realization.

He choked because in that way, he’d let Ramsay Snow win one last time.

Robyn yanked him close as he couldn’t hold himself together anymore. His good hand clung to her shoulder.

He heard fingers snap and Ramsay started screaming. Theon managed to see through his tears to tell that Ramsay was being ripped apart by Grey Wind while the two guards pinned him down.

His last thought before he was too exhausted to stay awake was that it was a fitting send off.

.o.o.o.

He woke up on a pallet.

He sat up, panicked. It was only a good dream, he realized with crushing sorrow. He was too weak to even imagine being able to save himself so he dreamed _her_ back to life to do it… Reek, Reek, rhymes with _weak_ …

“Are you all right?”

And now he was hearing the voice from his dream. His dead wife’s voice.

He blinked.

He wouldn’t be on a pallet if Ramsay was alive, he’d be on the floor in Ramsay’s room at best. Even when Ramsay allowed an infected wound to be treated it was on the floor.

He looked up hesitantly,, and his breath caught in his throat. “R-Robb?”

She nodded slowly. Her expression was confusing; she looked so happy but also so sad.

He hoped this wasn’t a dream. He’d hate to dream of Robyn only to make her sad.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Ramsay,” he replied, his voice trembling along with his body. “R-Ramsay Snow.” He looked her up and down. “This is…r-real, right?”

And now she looked so upset that he hated himself. “Yes. Theon…Theon, _yes_.”

“He s-said you were dead. F-from a wedding,” Theon said, fumbling with the knot in his belt. Ramsay had never cared for the belt as long as it didn’t impede yanking down Theon’s trousers too badly and had from that apathy accidentally let him keep his little secret all these weeks. “Gave me these.”

Robyn’s eyes went wide. “My mother…those are…she died there.”

It had been a trick all along. He hated himself for not thinking that there were other Starks the hair could belong to.

“Do you think you can stay awake? We need to get your wounds cleaned,” she said.

Theon nodded. Robyn stood and talked to someone at the door before coming back and sitting on the cot. She smiled softly, “You’re alive.”

“And so are you,” he replied, managing to keep his tone even this time.

“I just…I had no idea what happened to you,” she said. “It was like you vanished.”

Theon remembered what happened quite well. He’d been going to Winterfell. With his father rejecting the treaty with the North, they’d needed a commander back with Bran and Rickon to hold down the homefront. Catelyn was too good for Riverlands morale to leave, so he’d offered and then ridden North.

He hadn’t made it a week past the Twins. With the Red Wedding, he could guess why.

“They caught me north of the Twins,” he said. “Took the whole party prisoner. Flayed everyone else and burned the bodies.”

“Did you hear about Winterfell?” Robb asked quietly.

He nodded. “Ramsay, he liked reminding me that I failed. Though given how detailed he got, I guess he had a hand in it. W-would be like him.”

Robyn sighed, a hand combing through his filth-soaked hair. “You didn’t fail, Theon. You just got captured. Winterfell had warning, we’d sent ravens ahead, remember?”

“Can you keep saying my name?”

“What?” she asked.

“My name. He…kept trying to take my name. _Please_ keep saying it.”

“Theon,” Robb said, pulling his withered frame close. She repeated it over and over until there was a knock at the door. “Come in.”

Theon felt dread knot in his stomach as a large tub and several buckets of water were brought in.

“It’s not hot, I thought that it would irritate your wounds too much if it was,” Robb said as the men who brought the water up emptied most into the tub. “Thank you. Leave us.”

Theon looked at the tub apprehensively. “I…I can do this myself, Robb.” Maybe after washing and few days it might look a little better…but she couldn’t see him like this. He really didn’t want that.

The look he got was supremely unimpressed. Much like the one she’d given her Tully uncle for his battlefield screw up what seemed like a lifetime ago. “Theon, take off your clothes. Now. I’m not having you get sick from that filth and die just when I got you back.”

He remembered that she had just lost her mother. He realized that she didn’t want to lose him again. It made his heart beat fast, recalling that someone cared whether he lived or died.

…But she didn’t know that he wasn’t entirely sure that the man he’d been, the man she loved, was still around. “Fine. But it’s not pretty.”

He struggled to stand, but his knees gave out even when he managed to ignore the pain of his removed toes. Robyn caught him easily and they both ended up kneeling on the floor.

“Might be a little hard to get your pants off in this position,” she noted. “Do you need help?”

Theon grit his remaining teeth and nodded. His right heel was digging into a place on his leg that had been badly cut recently and it hurt too much to think until Robb positioned his torso against her raised knee to lift his hips, giving his leg some respite.

He quickly reached down with his good hand. It was like pulling off a leech, he just wanted to do it quickly. He managed to get his pants to his knees and then kick them off from there.

“Theon… _gods Theon_ ,” she muttered when she saw his cock and the surrounding skin.

“He was going to take it off,” he said weakly. “Had been flaying around it for days. But then the day after he started right above it…we got the news. He thought it’d be crueler to leave me with it for now. To let me know it meant nothing.”

His cock still being attached might not mean anything anyway. It and his stones had taken quite a bit of torture, so he wasn’t certain if they worked at all. He certainly hadn’t tried to see if they could. Would have just invited trouble.

Not that it ever stopped Ramsay from having his way with him.

“Let’s get you clean,” Robb said, sounding like she was focusing on the task in order to keep herself from being sick. “Can you walk if I take your weight?”

There wasn’t much of it to take, so he agreed. He stumbled over to the tub and finally got one foot in the water.

“Is it all right?” Robb asked as he paused.

“I…haven’t been in water in a long time.”

It felt so strange and he hated it. He was an Ironborn. He’d always loved water, loved when he could take a long bath at Winterfell, loved when he could get the Stark siblings to go swimming with him in a river or small lake… But he had barely had any water to _drink_ for so long that being able to have it around him felt…odd.

“I’m fine,” he said, putting his other leg in and sinking into the tub. Almost instantly some dirt and blood started seeping into the water. “Hope you have soap.”

“Yes,” she said. “Let’s get your hair.”

The amount of grime that came out was staggering. While the tips of his hair still had the slightest hints of his old near-black, most of it was a dingy gray. He hated looking at it. “Could you cut it?”

“Are you sure? You’d have a knife close to your head.”

“As long as you’re not _him_ , I don’t see the issue.”

“I’ll do it after you’re cleaned up,” Robb said.

Her fingers pulled the damp cloth over his battered body and all he could do was let her do it. Theron winced when she got to his back, not from pain but from her choked sob. “It’s fine.”

“I’m going to kill them all,” she snarled. “They killed my mother and kidnapped and tortured my husband. I’m going to kill _all_ of them for this.”

He can’t help the sort of happy ache in his chest when she calls him her husband. “How’s the war going?”

“Riverlands are still hell. North’s in chaos too after the wedding. What with the Boltons and Lannisters claiming my death. We’re fighting on two fronts now.”

“Stannis?”

“Beaten at the Battle of Blackwater months ago. Licking his wounds ever since.”

“News of your sisters?”

“Nothing of Arya. Sansa…she was wed to Tyrion Lannister. Joffrey’s going to marry a Tyrell now. Unless my mother’s plan with the Kingslayer works, we have no way of getting Sansa back.”

“Well…that’s a fine mess,” Theon said.

“Iron Islands are in an uproar. There was a king’s meet-”

“Kingmoot?” he asked quietly.

“That. Your father died, Asha tried to take charge, one of your uncles won and sailed off in search of the Targaryen and her dragons rumored in Essos, so Asha took her part of the fleet and defected to us claiming that until you were _proven_ dead she considered the kingsmoot void anyway,” Robyn said.

“Because I’m a potential heir and I wasn’t invited,” Theon chuckled. “So now when my uncle screws up she can call a new one and take command after having plenty of glory in the war for herself.”

“Your sister always was smart. I wrote to her that her dress saved my life. She offered to send over a person from Pyke who makes them so I can have more.”

“Do it. I can’t lose you again either,” Theon said. “Jon?”

“Went North of the Wall on some mission for a bit. He’s Lord Commander now.”

“Damn,” Theon said. “Poor guy. Sounds like you and your brother are in the same boat by now.”

“We are,” she agreed. “He wishes he could come help but…well, he took the black. And he says there’s stuff up there that’s worse, but he won’t say what.”

She helped him out of the water and started to wrap his wounds.

“Thank you,” Theon said quietly. “You have no idea how good it feels not having all that in the open air.”

“I just…I don’t even know why he did this,” Robb said.

“Because he thought it was fun,” Theon said.

“ _What_?” Robb asked.

“He just had to keep me locked up until enough people thought I was dead. The rest was for laughs. He made sure I knew it was happening just because he wanted it to,” Theon shrugged.

Robb let her head rest against his collarbone and wrapped her arms around him. “Theon…”

He buried his face in her hair. That was his name. She was here. And that was all he needed.

.o.o.o.

Theon awoke with a start. This time he figured out his surroundings quite quickly, mostly thanks to the bandages still wrapped all about his body.

This time he’d had a nightmare, a nightmare that this had all been a dream. But in the real world Ramsay Snow was dead and no longer there to fear.

He pushed his bangs out of his eyes. Robb had cut his hair shorter but it could still get in his face. In the dim morning light he could see that it looked like a sort of dingy grey-blonde. He absently wondered where the yellowness came from. Shouldn’t it have been white instead?

His hands were bandaged. Even the one that wasn’t missing fingers still had a weeping wound from Ramsay flaying the back off when he thought Theon had eaten a crust of bread too quickly. His back and shoulders were bandaged too, as were his feet and one ankle.

He hadn’t put on a shirt to sleep in, leaving his ribs on full display. His spine was probably the same. He held up his good arm to look at it—his finger and wrist bones were eerily prominent, and the bones at his elbow and shoulder weren’t much better.

He ran his tongue around his mouth, checking his teeth. Some were broken and jagged, others missing entirely. His jaw still ached tremendously.

One usually didn’t hear tales of people who were horribly tortured being rescued for more than a final speech and then a slightly better death than at the hand of the captors. It rather made him wonder where to go from here.

A hand fell on his shoulder. He hated that it made him flinch.

“Are you all right?” Robb asked. “I mean…is something wrong?”

“Just tired,” he said.

She rested her head on his shoulder, though he could feel that she was intentionally not leaning too much on him. “He’s dead.”

“I know. I liked your way of doing it.” For all he’d loved his hounds, Ramsay had died by one of their bigger relatives. It was a small flutter of joy that broke through the fog of despair still clouding his mind.

“Glad you approve,” Robb said, kissing his cheek gently. “Are you hungry?”

He’d really been hungry for so long that he’d sort of stopped being very hungry at all. At the very least he knew if he tried to eat a normal meal he’d likely end up vomiting most of it soon after. “A bit.”

“What do you want?”

He wonders why she’s asking him before recalling that she’d seen his mouth and could probably guess that some foods might give him trouble.

“Just soup, Robb. Watered down soup.” He could handle that. He was mostly sure, anyway.

Robb nodded and got out of bed to tell one of the guards.

His eyes followed her. The only part of him that hadn’t been made worse at the Dreadfort was his eyesight, good even for a Greyjoy and a major part to his famed aiming skills. Ramsay hadn’t cared to hurt his eyes, since they were what let him see what the Bastard of Bolton did to him, see and hate himself as he grew visibly weaker and more broken.

Now he just let his eyes drink in every detail of her. He found her beautiful, had for a long time, but he supposed most would use other terms, like “handsome” or “noble” or “stunning” to describe her less-than feminine beauty.

It was lovely to him, though. He admired strength, admired will, and very much admired how they both showed in his wife’s looks.

She was too good for him. Always had been. But now it was only even more painfully obvious.

“The maesters want to look you over after we eat,” Robb said as she returned to the warmth under the furs. “That alright?”

He still hated that she’d seen him like this. Whatever was left of his pride wasn’t too fond of the idea of others doing it too. “Will they keep quiet?”

He may not have felt like the man he was, but Robb would need her king back sooner rather than later, for appearances if nothing else. And having his tortures gossiped about would not be good for that.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he said.

.o.o.o.

_Ramsay’s boot collided with his face._

_“What was that?” the bastard asked mockingly._

_“Nothing,” Ree-no-it’s-Theon muttered._

_Ramsay kicked him again. He spat out blood as he lay on the floor._

_“Sorry...master,” Reek hissed, spitting out shards of teeth._

They claimed his teeth, at least, were fixable. Similar to the way sellswords put in gold teeth, only more permanent and likely not with gold. It would take a while before they were ready, maybe days.

He’d been prodded by the maesters all day, the old men sometimes clucking in disapproval as if he’d done this to himself. Various poultices had been applied to various parts of him. It was tedious, but better than awaiting a new torture.

He hoped Robb was doing fine, at whatever she was doing.

At least she was doing something.

As the maesters left, he buried his face in the furs on the bed. “Rhymes with weak, _weak_. Weak, freak…”

.o.o.o.

“Theon! Theon!”

His eyes shot open and he tried to scamper from whoever was shaking him, but this wasn’t the cell and his hands were slipping on fur and fabric and- “Robyn?”

“Thank the gods,” she muttered, hugging him. “You were thrashing everywhere and crying.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What—no, I don’t want…Theon, I want to know if you’re all right,” Robb said.

“I’m sorry.”

“Theon, I don’t want an apology. I want to-”

“I’m sorry because I’m not all right,” he said, hating that he was starting to sob again.

“We’ll figure something out,” Robb said. “I promise.”

“I don’t know if we can,” Theon said.

He wanted to. He wanted to so badly.

“Every time I wake up I don’t remember at first,” he admitted. “Sometimes it takes me over a minute to know it’s over.”

“Then let me help you.”

“Robb, I won’t know you,” he whispered. “I don’t even know my own name when I’m like that.”

“It’ll get better. We’ll find a way. I know we can,” she said. “It’s been less than a week.”

“Robb…what if you can’t fix me?”

It weighed on his mind. Robb was a queen. She needed a king. Not a weak sneak, a meek freak…

“You don’t need fixing. You just need time to heal,” she said.

“Robb I…who I was. I don’t know if he’s still there.”

She pulled him close, “Are you Theon Greyjoy?”

“…Yes.”

“Then you’re who I need.”

.o.o.o.

_Their wedding took place when she was fifteen and he nineteen. At the time they didn’t know Jon Arryn was soon to die and that wars were coming, they just knew that they were together._

_And that Robyn was nervous._

_“We don’t have to,” Theon murmured into her hair. Gods he loved her hair. “Right now. Not like we need a child soon or anything.”_

_“We’re supposed to consummate the marriage.”_

_“There’s that Tully sense of duty,” he teased, kissing her. “And Stark honor—no, wait, Tully is honor too, isn’t it…”_

_She shoved him. “You…you…_ pain _in the_ neck _!”_

 _“You love it,” Theon laughed, hugging her tightly. She slipped his hold and used the give from the bed and furs to get enough leverage to pin him. “And_ I _love that you can do that.”_

_Her cheeks colored prettily, “Oh you do, do you?”_

_“You’re strong and I find that attractive, yes.”_

_She was…he didn’t even have words for it really. He just adored and needed her and she did him. He was pretty sure that was love. He didn’t really have experience with it outside of her._

_She let some of the pressure off, but leaned over him all the same. “I still want to.”_

_His eyes widened. “You sure?”_

_“I want that. With you,” she said. “Now and always?”_

_He smiled, wondering how he every got so lucky. “Now and always.”_

The first hint that maybe Robb did need him was when she all-but collapsed onto the bed one evening.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, still clenching and unclenching his hands the way the maesters had recommended to fix the blood flow and stop their constant shaking.

“Everything,” she chuckled, a hint of hysteria in it. “Nothing’s really going right today, actually.”

“It’ll get better,” he offered. He hated how empty it sounded.

Robb just sighed and stretched out, kicking off her boots. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

Grey Wind didn’t look much happier as he curled up in the corner.

Theon wished he could do something. He knew trying to go to the council was a bad idea for now; he could barely stand on his own and being around any sort of shouting tended to rattle his nerves badly—Robb had once ranted against the Lannisters too loudly and to her shock and his shame he’d started sobbing in a panic. He wasn’t going to allow himself to do that around others, he still hated that Robb and her wolf knew.

Plus he’d been dragged to some Bolton meetings, chained under the table to be kicked, and he was worried he’d suddenly slip into the mindset Ramsay Snow had tried to force on him. Sometimes he slipped into it anyway.

So he couldn’t go and help. But he wanted to help.

“It will,” he said, his good hand running through her hair. “We’ll think of something. We always do.”

The smile on her face let him know that using “we” had been the right choice.

“I…I can’t go with you, you know, to the council and the banners and…such, but I am here,” he said. “Now and always, I’m here.”

She buried her face into his bony chest. “Theon…gods I love you.”

And now he was crying. Great, just when he was trying to manage being strong for her. “I love you too, Robb.”

She stayed in his arms that night.

He had no nightmares.

.o.o.o.

Even with his teeth fixed—and even if the procedure had hurt like hell it was _nothing_ compared to the elation that Ramsay Snow hadn’t permanently broken another part of him—Theon didn’t eat much.

Robb was concerned, but the maesters had agreed with Theon on the subject. Too much, or even any food that was too rich, would be a mistake and he’d likely just end up being sick.

“Don’t worry,” he said, trying to smile to reassure her. “I’m still just getting used to eating every day. And I’m getting stronger.”

One maester, sworn to silence on the matter, had been helping him figure out how best to walk with what had happened to his feet. The old man had told him he couldn’t just rest on his heels forever, as then those would start to see damage instead. Coupled with how weak his legs were it was slow going.

“I’m glad,” she said, smiling.

“So, what have you been doing?”

“Planning with a bit of arguing, mostly. We’re really letting the men rest until we have a new plan,” she sighed, shucking her cloak and boots to climb next to him on the bed. “Grey Wind and some scouts have been bringing in meat to salt for supplies. Not much.”

“New plan?” Theon asked.

“After the wedding…well, at first it was just a mess with everyone trying to figure out who escaped. Then we all had to get back together. Took…gods, over a month, at least. I did the only thing I could think of and sent word to your sister. Your father turned out to be dead by then so she gave us some relief since she knew we at last had a lead on you, and she got us some news as well. Since we knew the Boltons were traitors our next move was to march on the Dreadfort.”

“Then I wonder why Ramsay never just killed me, if he knew you were coming.”

“We never let any fort we took get news out,” Robb said grimly. “I had Roose Bolton lose his head on the road when we intercepted him on his way back here.”

Theon grinned. “You have no idea how good that makes me feel.”

“Good. You deserve to feel good after all you went through,” Robb murmured, sliding up against him.

“Did you ever think I was dead?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“I never let myself think you were anything but still alive,” Robb said. “I think that’s partly why Frey helped them take you, you know. To try and get me declared a widow so one of his sons could be king. And when it didn’t work…well, he sided with the Boltons.”

“And Bolton switched for the title of Lord of the North,” Theon growled. “With Ramsay fucking Snow as his heir. It’s have been a northern Joffrey, mark my words.”

“I hate him more than any of them. Frey sold you out, Roose had you captured but him…as you said, he didn’t have to do any of it. He wanted to,” Robb said darkly. “We left what was left of his body for the ravens. He doesn’t even deserve the soil for his bones.”

“I hate him too,” Theon whispered.

It was the truest thing he could say. It felt so good to hate Ramsay freely, to not have to hide it for fear of more agony.

He hated that he’d eventually stopped fighting most of it. When Ramsay had brought him Robb’s hair—no, Catelyn’s hair, right, her mother’s—something in him had just snapped and all the rage had come loose even though he was too weak to use it. After that he’d had no more rage, only pain.

Only Reek.

.o.o.o.

_Theon didn’t really like any of the royal party. The king was too loud, the queen too dismissive, and Joffrey reminded him of his brothers, when they’d been alive._

_He’d grit his teeth when the king made a joke about how being married to Robb made him a whole different kind of hostage. Robb and Lady Catelyn had both looked outraged._

_He wondered how someone like Ned Stark could ever have been friends with this fat idiot._

_The feast was good, though. He and Robb mostly stuck to keeping Bran and Rickon occupied while their parents hosted the festivities._

_“I don’t like Sansa marrying that prince,” Robb murmured after sneaking a quick kiss behind his ear._

_“He reminds me of my brothers. And no, that is not a good thing,” Theon said._

_“You have brothers?” Rickon asked, all childish innocence. “I thought you just had a sister.”_

_“I do. Now,” Theon said. “My brothers…they…went away.” Rickon was too young for death to just come up in conversation._

_Robb seized his hand under the table._

_“I’m fine,” he told her, smiling. “Look, let’s forget all this. Tomorrow we could go hunting.”_

_“Can I come?” Bran asked. “You’ve been teaching me to shoot and Jon’s been teaching me to ride, please Theon, please?”_

_“If Bran’s going so am I!” Arya insisted, appearing seemingly out of nowhere with far too many sweets on her plate. Theon quickly fixed that by taking some for himself and Robb._

_“Yes, we’ll go hunting tomorrow. I’m sure the wolves would like being out too,” Robb said, rubbing Grey Wind’s ears gently. “Tomorrow.”_

“What are you thinking about?” Robb asked.

“Remember how we got Bran to sit still by promising to go hunting?” Theon asked. “Gods, even after Lannister made him that saddle we never did…”

Robb sat next to him by the widow, looking out at the snow. “Don’t start like that, Theon. There’s so much I know I’d have done and said if I’d known…if I’d known…”

“I’d have never let your sisters leave,” Theon said. “I’d have told your father my fears about that fucking bastard Joffrey straight out.”

“It might not have helped,” Robb sighed. “But…I’d never have left Bran alone that night. I knew he was still wide awake, knew he might go climbing in the dark…”

“No, you didn’t,” Theon said. “You thought the promise would hold him over, like I did.”

“I suppose,” she sighed, heading over to the chest with their clothes to prepare for bed. “Jon’s the only one left besides us and Sansa now, isn’t he?”

Theon followed her. “Robb, you can’t dwell on that stuff.” His let his good hand stroke her hair a bit, hoping it helped.

“I know it’s just…” she went very still and turned to face him. “You’re…walking? On your own?”

“Yes?” he asked. Had he not done so around her before?

Robb laughed and threw her arms around his shoulders—only she did so too hard and he couldn’t take her weight like he used to and they ended up in a heap on the floor.

“I’m sorry…shit I’m sorry,” Robb hiccupped, still giggling.

“It’s fine,” Theon said, kissing her forehead. “What man doesn’t like being embraced by a beautiful woman?”

Her elbows buckled as she laughed and he vaguely hoped she didn’t collapse on him since he knew his head and shoulders wouldn’t like cracking against the floor.

“I just…any good news, you know?” she laughed.

“I can’t get better news, personally,” Theon said.

“What?” she asked.

“I got the best news possible when you walked into that cell. That you were alive,” he said.

“Flatterer,” she grinned.

He relaxed. Robb was happy. He’d helped her be happy. If that was all he was good for that was enough.

Even still, it sure hurt his pride to ask, “Robb, can you help me up?”

.o.o.o.

_“I will not bend for the Stark bitch.”_

_Theon remembered his blood running cold, as if the saltwater in it had at last yielded enough to winter to freeze._

_He came here with a proposal that was essentially everything his father wanted, and the man wouldn’t take it. And then he had the gall…_

_“_ No one _is asking you to bend at the knee and you_ will not _say such things about_ my wife _.”_

_The Stark and Tully soldiers that had come with him looked stunned as he dared set his hand on his sword in front of his father, but they didn’t know that was often how these things went. Asha has sent Robb the dress thinking the North was as wild as the Iron Islands._

_“Am I to fear a man who only gains a crown by marrying the right woman, instead of the iron price?” his father sneered. “That is no king.”_

_Theon was honestly surprised at how many of the men looked offended on his behalf. Not as angry as they had when Robb was insulted, but then_ she _was a Stark._

 _“You will out of my domain by dawn tomorrow,” Balon said. “I will not talk to a boy who cannot pay the Iron Price for his gains and_ take _what is his.”_

_“You cowered before Ned Stark and handed me over without complaint. Did you take what was yours then?” Theon asked darkly before turning and storming out. As soon as they were away from his father he said, “We have to leave now.”_

_“He said until dawn,” an Umber soldier said._

_“He also said his domain. He see all the seas as his. He’s going to send a ship after us if he thinks we’re still within reach.”_

Theon’s first time back with the council was relatively tame compared to the fights he recalled form before his capture. It might have had some to to do with Roose Bolton being gone and the Karstarks having been cut in two, with the loyal ones led by the rather levelheaded Alys Karstark.

He’d gotten some pitying looks, but then the Greatjon, Lord Umber, had _loudly_ congratulated him on his survival and things had mostly settled into a meeting after that, Theon taking his place at Robb’s side.

He mostly stuck to looking over the maps and listening instead of speaking. Apparently Asha was off torching Lannisport for them and her latest letter had claimed she would bring them many confiscated weapons and gold as a “reward” for “saving my idiot brother.”

Nice to know she cared.

Still, the numbers were a lot smaller than they once were. He could see why Robb was worried for Sansa—they barely had the people to hold the Riverlands when they went back there to help the Blackfish finally take out the Freys. They could never push south. Not without more men.

Stannis was still sulking in Dragonstone after the defeat that occurred after Theon was captured. He’d be no help. The idea of sending someone to Dorne for help was tossed about. The Martells had every reason to hate the Lannisters. Of course there was the problem of getting someone there at all…

“If only we still had the Kingslayer,” Lord Glover sighed.

“Well, we don’t. No use wishing,” Alys told him. “If we take out the rest of the Boltons we’ll have the North pretty much controlled again. My treasonous relatives need the Boltons shoring them up.”

“A messenger from White Harbor,” one of the guards at the doors announced.

Theon hoped the Manderly man had good news. Wyman Manderly had been doing all he could to bring in supplies from Essos and Braavos, but he’d been keeping them in his city until the North was safe enough to send such things without them easily falling into enemy hands.

The messenger looked tired, “I rode all night, your grace, err, graces,” he said, spotting Theon.

Theon didn’t mind. He’d been gone for months, after all, and only back for a few weeks.

“This sounds important” Robb prompted.

“Rickon Stark, his direwolf, and the wildling woman known as Osha were found on our shores, alive,” the man said. “Took us a while to get them inside and fed, the woman wasn’t convinced we were really loyal to the Starks, but we did eventually.”

“Rickon’s alive?” Robb asked.

“Yes, your grace. He’s a bit thin and quite wild, but my lord recognized him all the same,” the man said.

“Bran?” Theon asked worriedly.

“Not with them, your grace,” the messenger admitted sadly. “Prince Rickon won’t talk and Osha is too suspicious of us to tell.”

“We do need a resupply,” the Greatjon suggested. “We could then take the sea to the Riverlands to help the Blackfish.”

“Did you hear anything about House Manderly? When the Boltons had you?” Robb asked Theon.

He frowned. Other than some Boltons’ complaining, he didn’t think they’d been mentioned. “Wyman…wanted proof they had Wylis before he’d agree to anything. And I don’t think they had Wylis.”

“ _We_ have Wylis. Have had him the whole time,” Robb agreed. “And Wendel died at the Red Wedding.”

Theon shrugged, “I think Roose was mad Lord Manderly wouldn’t send the ‘new Lord of the North’ supplies. That’s all.”

Many of the lords scowled at the mention of the Bolton’s grab for power. Alys sniffed in disdain. Maege Mormont clenched a fist.

“They’ve helped us so far. We don’t have a reason to doubt them,” said one man—Theon supposed he was new, he didn’t recognize him.

“All right. Sack the Dreadfort, take all you can,” Robb told her lords. “We’re going to White Harbor on the morrow.”

.o.o.o.

_They needed allies._

_Naturally nobody in the goddamn tent could agree on what they wanted. Theon busied himself with checking over the maps and plans, since a lot of Robb’s bannermen got testy when he tried to help her break up their fights. Backing her attempts up with battlefield facts was usually a better tactic._

_“My lords, my lords!” Lord Umber yelled above everyone else. Theon resisted the urge to rub his now aching ears. “I would not choose Renly or Stannis. No, the South has given us enough trouble! And Joffrey?”_

_Theon smirked as the man spat after saying the little tyrant’s name._

_“So what are you saying?” Robb asked, sounding as intrigued as Theon was._

_“The South can drive itself mad,” Lord Umber said. “Joffrey can listen to his mother, Stannis to his Red Woman, and Renly to his Tyrell wife and they can all destroy each other! The only rulers I will bow to are the Queen and King in the North!”_

_Umber promptly bent at the knee, but Theon was frankly more shocked he’d been included._

_“I think we’ve been declared King and Queen,” Robb said quietly as great cheers went up and more lords knelt._

_“Queen and King. They like you better, Robb,” he joked weakly. “Though if they’re willing to crown me too maybe they like me more than I thought.”_

Theon turned the crown over in his hands. The Boltons had kept it as a trophy, and now it was his again. Unlike Robb’s with its tall nine needles standing perfectly straight, his had shorter spires crisscrossing each other like a circular net of stakes.

He was still King in the North, husband to the queen. Despite trying, Ramsay couldn’t take that from him.

Even with how he was now, with his nightmares and his weakness and his scars, he was he king, and he had to try. For Robb if no one else.

They were riding to White Harbor to see if Manderly told the truth about Rickon, and if so ask Rickon about Bran.

Robyn was out seeing to the final sacking of the fort and planning their trip to the Riverlands from White Harbor. Grey Wind had stayed with Theon.

The big wolf was a comforting presence. He might not have liked Theon like he did Robb, but he was certainly nicer to his mistress’ husband than he was to anyone that wasn’t Robb or her siblings.

Theon set the crown down to pull his boots on. He’d taken to strategically stuffing the toes to make walking a bit easier, but it meant he had to adjust the stuffing every time he pulled them on to make sure it replaced the right toes. After the boots he shrugged on a cloak—almost the same as the ones he’d worn before capture, only now he all-but downed in the thing. Still, it should keep him warm.

The last things before the crown were the gloves. He didn’t have a bow right now. He hadn’t asked if his had been found in the mess of weapons in the Dreadfort armory and for now it didn’t matter.

He’d see if he could manage shooting at White Harbor, maybe.

He looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were still shadowed, and he looked older than he was, but his injuries were hidden under clothes and fur and light armor and his hair didn’t look quite so bad anymore.

Grey Wind padded to his side and sat next to him.

“One moment,” he told the wolf, carefully setting the crown in his head. It felt far heavier than he recalled. Then again, his own weight was much less than what it once was.

He knees buckled a bit, but Grey Wind helpfully pushed himself under Theon’s hand.

“Thanks,” Theon said, letting the wolf take some of his weight. “Think I can do this?”

He’d intended to just use the wolf as a sounding wall, to convince himself to agree that he could, but then Grey Wind just gave him such a _look_ like Robb did when peopled asked something so absurd she was shocked it was a question.

“Great, not only does my wife have too much faith in me, so do you,” he sighed, rubbing the wolf’s ears anyway. “Let’s get out of here.”

Grey Wind helpfully bore his weight as they walked through the fortress. As they neared the gates Theon paused to smile at the Bolton heads staked above the wall.

Ramsay’s was only a skull, not that there had been a full face when they put it up there.

“Ate his nose right off, didn’t you?” he asked the wolf. Going by Grey Wind’s proud expression, he’d understood.

“Your grace!”

The Greatjon approached him, “Horses are this way. We saddled them there so the walls blocked the wind.”

“Thank you,” Theon said.

“No offense intended, your grace, but do you think you will be fine riding?”

“Yes,” Theon said. His left hand still ached, but his right could hold the reins. As long as no one tried giving him some spirited stallion as a prank he’d be fine.

“The Queen hoped so. She was wondering if it was a good idea,” the Greatjon explained.

Robb was talking with Alys and Maege Mormont as he approached. “You ready?”

“Let’s bring Rickon home,” Theon agreed. A squire of Mormont’s helped him into the saddle.

“Tell me if you need help,” Robb said quietly as she swung herself onto her own horse.

“I’ll be fine,” Theon said. He was fairly sure he could do this as long as they didn’t have to gallop long distances.

Going by how close Grey Wind stuck to his horse instead of Robb’s, he hadn’t been believed.

.o.o.o.

Sleeping on the road was far worse than he remembered. It was almost like when Theon had been forced to sleep with Ramsay’s dogs out in the cold, but only almost since at least here he had a fur blanket, Robb, and a very warm direwolf willing to curl up beside them.

It was still bitingly cold.

Theon shifted on the pallet. Robb was on his right, and Grey Wind’s head was on his left. They were both warm but he still felt cold.

It wasn’t the cold from Pyke, when his veins had frozen over in fury at his father. It wasn’t the shuddering cold of the early days as Ramsay’s prisoner from a hard floor and little clothing that sent his skin shivering. This cold was deep, seeping into his bones and making them feel like they were almost on fire.

“You’re shivering.” Robb hauled him closer and her wolf pressed more firmly to his back.

“I’ll be fine.” He wanted to be fine. He didn’t want to have to stay behind. He couldn’t leave her again. It’d kill him, he knew it.

Her hands rubbed up and down his sides and the way that made his clothes rub against his skin helped warm him.

He hoped the kiss he pressed to her cheekbone did the same for her.

.o.o.o.

_“What’s the sea like?” Robb asked._

_Theon frowned. She’d seen rivers with him, of course, her father taught all three of them to ride across rivers together, but the sea was something none of the Stark children had yet to experience. “Well…it’s like a lake. But instead of being surrounded by land, it surrounds the land.”_

_He held the young girl’s attention utterly. Jon’s too, if the way the curly-haired boy’s eyes were flicking up every so often was an indicator. “It’s so huge and blue…but it’s also green and brown and yellow at times. It’s never the same.”_

_“It’s water, isn’t it?” Robb asked. “How’s water all that?”_

_“Because of the salt,” Theon said with all the authority that could be mustered by a proud fourteen year old. “Water in the sea is full of salt, you can smell it in the air and taste it if you’re ever fool enough to drink any of it.”_

_“Fool?” Jon asked, bemused._

_“Only idiots drink saltwater,” Theon said. “It makes the Drowned God angry and you have to drink more and more and never stop feeling thirsty and eventually you pass out. If you’re alone you’ll_ die _.”_

_“But there’s supposed to be salt in your veins already, Greyjoy,” Jon mocked dryly. “Surely a bit more won’t hurt?”_

_“Go away, Snow.” He’d have told the boy to fuck off, but last time he swore in front of her children Catelyn Stark had threatened to switch him if he did it again. And Robb was right there. So he’d swear at Snow later._

_“I’d like to see the sea,” the girl declared._

_“I’d like to show it to you,” he replied._

“You were right about the sea,” Robb murmured as they reached White Harbor. “It’s gorgeous.”

Theon nodded, too busy inhaling the salty air to do anything else. Sadly that meant he was almost started off his horse at the loud horn blasts that signaled their arrival.

Maege Mormont helpfully nudged him upright. “Quite a startle. Glad my horse didn’t buck.”

He smiled at her in thanks. He needed to save all the face he could right now.

They were led through the city and the cheering was so loud. Theon kept his eyes on Robb, afraid if he didn’t his mind would warp the noise into barking dogs and he might think Ramsay was hunting him again. But as long as he could see her it would be fine.

Her and sea air. He’d be fine.

.o.o.o.

Manderly had scheduled the feast welcoming them for the evening, well after they’d seen Rickon.

Theon had ended up on his ass after they’d opened the door since Shaggydog had lunged, only barely restrained in time by Osha before Grey Wind attacked back.

Robb hauled him to his feet as the wolves inspected each other and Osha inspected them.

“Robyn Stark,” the wilding woman said, stunned. “And…Theon? Is that you?”

“Osha,” Robb said. “Where is my brother?”

Osha seized Robb’s hand and dragged her, and by extension Theon, into the room.

Rickon looked like some sort of wilding child, not that Theon had ever seen one to compare. His hair was a mess, his eyes were shifty and wild and he looked half-starved.

“What happened?” Robb demanded of Osha.

“We escaped when the Ironmen attacked,” Osha said and Theon could not hide his wince. “Maester Luwin died to hide our exit. Bran and Hodor went North with the Reeds. Bran had dreams leading him north of the Wall. We tried to make our way to you but…became lost.”

“And why won’t he speak?” Robb asked, composing herself after her jaw dropped at hearing where Bran went.

“He does,” Osha said. “He just…he heard of the Red Wedding. And then he grew sad and quiet.”

“Robb?”

Rickon’s eyes had focused a bit. Robb fell to her knees. “Rickon?”

Grey Wind was having an easier time of things, already romping with Shaggydog on the rug. Theon envied him.

Rickon looked like he was going to cry. He silently held his arms open and Robb scooped him up, cooing gently into his messy hair.

“And you? What happened to you?” Osha asked Theon.

“Captured on the way to help you, along with the men who would have protected Winterfell,” Theon said. “Tortured.”

“This war was not kind to you Starks,” Osha observed.

“Well now it will start being unkind to our enemies,” Theon replied. He knelt by Robb, making sure to bear his weight on his knees instead of his feet. “Rickon?”

He jolted back at Rickon’s snarl.

“Rickon, it’s Theon!” Robb protested, pinning her brother still. “You know him!”

Theon wanted to laugh it off, as he did look quite different, but all he could feel was bile rising in his throat.

Rickon didn’t recognize him.

“He remembers you, he does,” Osha said quickly, likely sensing his pain. “You just…do not look like you. And he has been on the run a long time. Has not seen _you_ in a long time.”

“I’m sure,” Theon agreed for the sake of agreeing as Rickon resettled himself in his sister’s arms. “Maybe after he’s had time to adjust to Robb being back.”

He hoped they couldn’t tell how much he doubted it.

.o.o.o.

Seven hells did he ever look different.

He hadn’t had much time to dwell on it lately, no place they’d stayed since the Dreadfort had contained any mirrors for him to see himself and he hadn’t thought much on it otherwise but…

He could see how Rickon didn’t know him.

Hell, he barely reconnized himself. If he hadn’t been able to see his own eyes looking out from the strange face and seen the silver teeth the maesters had put in he might have wondered if it was some sort of magical mirror that showed other people.

At least in the past he’d been handsome for Robb, despite how he didn’t deserve her. He looked like someone who could stand beside her.

“Something wrong?” Robb asked, coming in.

Theon made sure not to start at the intrusion. “Just checking my hair. I think some of it was sticking up.”

She came next to him and kissed his cheek, “Looks fine to me. Maybe you’re just so bored you’re imagining things.”

“Well, if I’m that bored perhaps you should try to shove more of the paperwork off onto me.”

“You bloody hate paperwork.”

“So do you, but it’ll be something to do,” Theon admitted. “At least I could read it for you, save you some time.”

“If you want,” she shrugged. “We should be sailing for the Riverlands by the end of the week. Your sister sent a letter, she dropped off the captured weapons and money with the Blackfish. Says she found you a new bow.”

“Let’s hope I can manage using it,” Theon chuckled.

“Your hands have been shaking less lately. I think getting tied to the Bolton’s crosses so often just messed up the flow of blood. They just need time,” Robb said, taking his ruined hand and kissing it.

Rickon needed time, his hands needed time, his mind needed time. Theon hated all of it needing all of that time.

He just wished things could be as they were.

.o.o.o.

_“When ‘s mother coming home?”_

_“Soon, I’m sure,” Theon hedged, giving Rickon the most reassuring grin he could muster. “Do you want to sit at court with Robb and me?”_

_“Carry me,” Rickon said. “…Please?”_

_“Well…since you asked nicely,” Theon chuckled, swinging the child up into his arms. “But Shaggydog can walk.” He was not trying to pick up that massive ball of fur._

_“How come everyone’s leaving?” Rickon complained._

_“Well, the king needs your father to do a job for him and Sansa’s going to marry Joffrey,” Theon said, trying to keep the bile out of his mouth for the latter part. “Arya’s just exploring the capital, though, so she’ll be home soon. Probably in a few months.”_

_As long as things didn’t snowball that should hold true enough…_

_“What about Mother?”_

_“Soon, I’m sure. She’s just making sure no one hurts you or Bran,” Theon said._

_“…Are you and Robb going to leave?”_

_Theon wanted to say they wouldn’t but no one could promise that. Not with how complicated the world was getting all the sudden. “We don’t intend to. And I promise you we only will for a_ very _good reason.”_

Rickon was looking at him oddly. Theon noticed when he first looked up from the supply lists he was working on with Robb.

Rickon was sitting on the bed with his sister while Theon was in a chair by the table so he could write the changes—the maesters insisted that practicing writing would help steady his hands for other tasks.

He hoped so. He couldn’t hold an arrow steady, much less a whole bow. And he’d love to be able to shoot again.

“Why’s your hair not dark?”

Robb looked at Rickon in shock and Theon was sure he was doing the same. She found her voice first, “What was that, Rickon?”

“His hair. Should be dark,” Rickon said contemplatively. “Not Jon dark, but dark. But it’s not.”

“It…it’s not,” Theon agreed. “But it was. It…changed.”

Rickon nodded, “Okay.”

.o.o.o.

“Was it for a good reason?”

“What?” Theon asked, startled awake. He must have dozed off in a chair…gods there was such a crick in his neck…

“When you left,” Rickon said. “Good reason?”

“Yes. A very good reason,” Theon said. “It just…we thought the reason we left would be fixed quicker than it was.”

“I was scared. Without you. I told Robb,” he said. “I…was scared. They took our home.”

“I know they did. I was supposed to come, to help,” Theon said.

“Why didn’t you?”

“They stopped me.”

“And made your hair weird?”

“Yeah, and made my hair weird,” Theon said.

“…Thanks for coming back,” Rickon said. “Sorry I almost bit you.”

“It’s okay,” Theon said. “You were scared, right? In a weird place?”

He could relate. If he’d been younger when he’d been brought to Winterfell he might have pulled similar.

“Are you going to leave again?” Rickon asked. “Can’t you and Robb stay?”

“We want to stay,” Theon said. “But…we have to make sure everyone’s safe first. We’ll take you with us to the Riverlands this time, though. You can meet your great-uncle the Blackfish.”

“My uncle’s a black fish?” Rickon asked, his nose wrinkling.

“He is indeed,” Theon said, running with it.

“Tell me about him,” Rickon demanded, climbing into Theon’s lap. ‘Tell me about the fish. You tell good stories, Theon.”

He told himself he wouldn’t cry in front of Rickon years ago. He only just managed to keep his word.

.o.o.o.

_“What do you want to do when this mess is over?” Robb asked, finally shucking her clothes and curling next to him beneath the furs._

_“Well, firstly I’m going to make sure your father knows you did a damn good job in his absence,” Theon said. “And then I am going to take you to see the sea. We’ll stay out there for a few weeks and clear out heads and put this wretched time behind us.”_

_“You know, I’d like that. You could explain how you knowledge of boats actually means something,” Robb teased._

_“At least I understood Manderly’s reports on the damge to his shipping fleet,” Theon shot back. “What was that you asked me when we were alone? ‘Theon, the fuck is a starboard, some kind of wood?’”_

_“Shut it, you,” she said._

_“You know what else I’ll do?” Theon asked. “I’ll find a cove where there’s no one else in the world about and then I’ll take you into the water and have you right there in the sea. And you will_ love _it.”_

 _“Well I generally love your ideas for sex, so why not?” Robb laughed_.

“The maesters think it will do you some good, come on,” Robb said.

Theon huffed. The pools in the White Harbor godswood were natural hot springs and somebody had decided that a combination of the hot water and the gods’ power might be of use to him. He personally didn’t think the gods gave anything resembling a damn about him, Old or Drowned, but he was going to give it a go because Robb thought it was a good idea.

The wood was left to them alone for this and Theon really was grateful that Manderly had somehow managed that. However when they did finally reach a pool large enough for the both of them and Robb looked at him expectantly, he hesitated.

Naturally she noticed, stepping close and winder her arms around his still-too-thin shoulders.

“No one’s here but me,” Robb murmured. “It’s all right.”

Theon nodded though all he wanted to do was run away and hold her close and sob and kiss her and he had no idea anymore.

Robb undid the straps holding up their cloaks, letting both fall to the ground as she started working on Theon’s tunic and shirt.

Working off a combination of instinct and memories of before, of when they had done this together in Winterfell or in tents after a battle, Theon began to unlace her shirt in return.

He frowned as he pushed the garment down. “I don’t recognize all of these.” His good hand traced a scar.

“Some of the battles you missed,” she shrugged, nudging his upper garments off and going for his trousers.

While nothing compared to his state, she was thinner now. Her breasts had never been particularly large, but now they looked as if they’d hardly need bindings to stay flat under her armor.

“Theon?” she asked.

He realized she’d been looking at him and by now they were both quite naked. “Sorry, you’re just…so beautiful, Robb.”

She always had been . All those idiots who called Cersei Lannister the most beautiful woman in all the world needed their heads examined.

“You always say that,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m not sure where you get it…”

“I’m not sure where everyone else _doesn’t_ get it, personally,” Theon protested. “Like you said, I’ve _always_ said you’re beautiful.”

Robb smiled. She thought he was flattering her. She always thought he was flattering her.

Theon’s eyes fell on his ruined hand.

He must have sighed or something, since Robb seized that hand and used it to pull him close.

“I don’t care,” she said flatly. “Theon, _yes_ , you look different now. Yes, you lost a lot at the Dreadfort. And I do not care.”

“Why?” Theon demanded. He didn’t even have the strength to get his hand back from her grip.

“Because you came back to me!” Robb snapped. “Because I never thought I’d see you again and now…now I have you back. You…Theon, I missed you so much…”

He grabbed her as she started crying. He didn’t know what else to do.

“I love you, you idiot. I’m not sure what else to do.”

“Let’s…get in the pool,” Theon said quietly. “I…if we’re to talk about this I don’t want to be freezing.”

Robb looked hesitant to let go of his hand, but eventually released it to sink under the water. Theon followed her carefully, sitting at the pool’s edge and then sliding in.

Gods it felt good. He didn’t know if it was because the pool was deep enough to soak in, if it was that the water was hot, of if it was some power of the Old Gods, but he didn’t care.

“You’ve always been too good for me. Even before,” Theon said as soon as he gathered himself.

“Before?” Robb asked.

“Before I got captured—hell, before we got married,” Theon said, shrugging. “Robb, you know I was a glorified hostage. I spent nearly ten years wondering when my head would roll.”

“That was only if your father-”

“Really, if the king thought my life was that important to my father he was well out of his mind,” Theon said. “I knew it could happen at any time. But then…when I was seventeen…well, your mother had her plan.”

“She thought you might be the only boy who wouldn’t care I had Winterfell instead of him,” Robb chuckled. “She was right.”

“Well, yes,” Theon said. “But part of that marriage meant—and don’t you dare think this is why I married you, either—that, well, it was less likely my head would come off.”

“I already knew that,” Robb said. “I don’t see how-”

“Robb. You were then the daughter and heir of a Lord Paramount marrying a hostage from the most hated of the Seven Kingdoms,” Theon said. “Frankly I was stunned even after it happened.”

“Well… that’s not how I saw it,” Robb said. “I saw there was a girl, a girl who wasn’t very pretty—except by the standards of her future husband so let me finish—and had been tasked with being the heir to the Paramount house of the North. She was raised as a boy would have been in many ways, and was expected to rule. And that was the rub, whoever married her would have to content themselves with being second to her. And…well, the prevailing thought of the time was ‘what man would want that?’ for how could anyone’s pride take it?”

She smiled, “And it’s not like I wanted someone who just gave in to me or anything. I still wanted a husband, a partner. And you…you treated me as if my situation was normal. As if any man would be lucky to marry me. As if _you_ would be lucky to have me.”

“Which I was, as I said,” Theon added.

“You just…you have no idea how much I needed that. On the one hand they called me the Young Wolf, the girl who was as capable as any lord, but on the other they noted I was a girl acting unlike a woman and that there might have been something odd about me.”

“There was nothing wrong with you. Good thing Asha never came to visit. There’d have been an ‘incident’ and then a war and then my head would have rolled,” Theon chuckled.

“And it’s not that I didn’t have faith in myself, it’s that…someone else having that much faith in me, someone other than my parents and siblings since, well, they pretty much had to, they’re family…it felt wonderful,” Robb said, kissing him gently.

“Family doesn’t have to care. I was the only son left after the war and one of the only two children. I was al-but ignored. When I went to Pyke it was all abuse and blame,” Theon sighed. “That’s probably when I realized that not only were you my home, but so was the North. Ironborn I may be, but the islands aren’t my home anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Robb asked.

“Saltwater doesn’t freeze easily, Robb,” Theon said softly. “It’s why the seas and oceans hold out over the rivers and lakes in the cold. But when he…when he spoke like that…spoke about _you_ like that…the sea in me froze solid.”

“…That sounds painful,” she said after a moment.

“No, no, it was…good,” Theon said. “It helped me realize where I belonged. In the North. With you.”

“You know, anyone who says an Ironborn can’t be romantic hasn’t chatted with you long enough,” Robb said, sliding over into his lap.

“Oh, we’re really not,” Theon said. “I’m sure I’ve told you before. If we’d been on the islands I’d have had to present you with gifts, but not really romantic ones. More like an attempt to buy you.”

“I’m assuming you mean other than that sheath you had commissioned as a wedding present for me?” Robb asked. “Which was frankly _quite_ romantic.”

“No, no, gifts I’d paid the Iron Price for. That I’d either stolen from someone I terrified into giving it to me or from a corpse I looted. You’d have _hated_ it,” Theon said. “But for someone like you…well, it would require paying the price a lot. I’d really have to prove myself to your family. And you’d have to prove yourself to mine.”

“Would I have to hand your sister her ass in a fight or something?” Robb asked. “You know I could.”

Theon shuddered as Robb rolled her hips. “N-no. you might have t-to present yourself as a good wife. Depends on what the family you marry into wants. It’s why Asha’s not married yet. She’s powerful, but she also won’t bend to a husband.”

“I don’t bend.”

“I recall bending you a few times,” Theon muttered into her ear. “Including over your map table…”

“Not _that_ bending,” Robb hissed, but he heard her trying not to laugh.

“Well, I like that you don’t bend the other way. I like you strong,” Theon kissed along her neck. “I like you as you are, my queen, you and all that wintery fire in you.”

“And I like my king when he is where he belongs, at my side,” Robb replied, dipping her chin to catch his lips.

“I’m never leaving it again if I can help it,” Theon said.

“Oh, don’t say that, then the world will just make sure you have to,” Robb sighed, rubbing his shoulders as she rolled her hips again. “Just promise you’ll always come back.”

“How could I stay away?” Theon asked.

He felt so good as they continued to kiss, so warm in a way that had nothing to do with the pool. His eyes widened. “Robb…do you feel…?” He canted his hips upward a bit.

She smiled slowly, “Did you not think you could?”

No. He hadn’t thought he could, especially not after only about a month of freedom. He had worried he’d never be able to properly give her that part of him again, that he couldn’t have children with her.

“You…why didn’t you say anything?” Robb asked, realizing he honestly hadn’t.

“I was hoping I wasn’t right. And I wasn’t,” Theon said.

“Theon…”

“You’re a queen,” he said quietly. “You need an heir.”

She grabbed his hair and glared into his eyes. “I need my king. And I need him to be honest with me when something is troubling him.”

“You’re right,” Theon muttered. “I just…I already feel so…weak. I’d hate to not be a man anymore.”

“You’d still be a man,” Robb said. “ _My_ man.”

Theon swallowed but said nothing.

“Sometimes I wish you could love yourself like I love you,” Robb said.

“Well, I’d ask you to show me, but the gods might not like us fucking in their pool,” Theon said, flashing what he hoped was a confident-looking grin.

“You could always bend me over the bed,” Robb offered.

.o.o.o.

_“Gods,” Robb muttered. “Ooh gods…”_

_“It didn’t hurt too much, right? I know it hurts the first time,” Theon said worriedly._

_“Greyjoy I swear if you don’t get down here to kiss me you won’t see between my legs for a month.”_

_“As my lady wishes,” Theon chuckled, lying beside Robb. He took her chin in one hand and kissed her. “I promise next time will be better.”_

_“It didn’t hurt_ that _much, idiot,” she huffed._

_“Not too much of an idiot for you to refuse my cock,” Theon laughed._

_“It’s because despite being a bit of an idiot I still love you.”_

_“Oh, good, because I love you too,” Theon said softly before nodding off_.

“Sorry,” Theon sighed.

“For the best,” Robb said, wiping his seed from her stomach. “I don’t think this really the time to become with child, anyway.” She grinned. “But of course we can practice, if it’s stamina that worries you.”

He was so tired, but he smiled back anyway. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

“Of course, even fuck me.”

“Well…it’s not that much a chore,” Theon conceded.

“A chore? Theon Greyjoy do you want to sleep with my wolf instead of me? Because I think you might have lost your right to the bed!”

“You’d never do that to me,” Theon laughed. “Because you love me as I love you. Now and always.”

“Now and always,” Robb agreed.


End file.
